


Whumptober 2019

by orphan_account



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Hollow Knight (Video Games), InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, South Park, The Umbrella Academy (TV), Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Angst, Delirium, Drabble Collection, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, M/M, Nightmares, Poisoning, Whumptober, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-15 13:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20866688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Here are all my drabbles for Whumptober 2019. Multiple fandoms/characters so just check the tags/titles.





	1. Shaking hands - Until Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing Whumptober this year so wish me luck. there will be multiple fandoms in this collection, some of them appearing more than once, but I'm literally too lazy to make them all into separate stories since they're pretty short so rip I guess...

Maybe Mike had expected something different.

Maybe he had thought it would be more important, more life-changing.

The truth of the matter was that _everything_ that happened that night was life-changing. None of them came back from that mountain the same, all of them lost something that night. Lost someone.

It just so happened to be that Mike came back a few fingers short.

And the thing was, he really hardly noticed it anymore. Sure, those first few weeks had been tough. The wound had hurt like a son of a bitch, and while the doctors had been impressed by the clean cut of the machete, the sharp way in which his arteries had been severed and his flesh had been shred, there wasn’t much they could do except dress the still bleeding stumps and give him some pain killers before sending him on his way.

He needed a little time adjusting to using his other hand more, but really the world had always been built for right-handed people first and foremost. Even as a kid Mike had known this and growing up he had often found himself learning to do things the ‘normal’ way anyway, or risk being ridiculed by his peers. It was just easier.

Of course, he had been wary of the horror stories you heard about phantom pain, but that didn’t turn out too bad either. Sometimes he felt it, a weird cramping sensation that tended to travel all the way up to his arm and made him involuntarily flex his remaining fingers into a tight fist. But breathing through it helped and usually, it would fade pretty quickly.

So really he didn’t think about it at all anymore.

“Your total is $ 4,50. Would you need a bag with that today?” The girl asked. She was pretty, with auburn hair tied back into a tight ponytail, though a few strands escaped to hang loosely around her face.

Mike smiled at her, just the barest hint of teeth, as he glanced down at the single bag of pretzels and bottle of coke. “I think I can handle it.”

Her eyes were dark brown and filled with amusement at his comment, one hand tugging those strands behind her ear idly. “I’m sure you can.”

He dug into his jeans pocket, feeling for the five-dollar bill he was sure he put there somewhere. The girl leaned onto the counter slightly. He found it eventually, though she didn’t seem to mind the delay. Mike knew he was pretty nice to look at after all.

“Here you go,” He handed her the bill, or tried to at least-

It was almost unnoticeable. Almost, but not quiet. She flinches only for a second, hand falling away from his, retreating back to her side. Mike was looking at her face, looking for that smile, just in time for the brief moment of shock and disgust on her face to register in his mind.

She tried to cover it up smoothly, taking the money from him just a bit too carefully, with the tips of her perfectly manicured fingers to make sure their hands don’t touch. She plastered that smile back onto her face but it isn’t as sincere, as comfortable. She wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “Thank Yo-”

“Keep the change,” He forced out between clenched teeth before she could respond properly. There was something apologetic about her, but Mike ignored it, rushing out of the store quickly. The automatic doors opened, blasting him with cold autumn air, and he pulled his coat closer around himself, despite it not being cold at all.

And despite it not being cold his hands were shaking.


	2. Nightmare - South Park

They don’t even look up at Eric when he walks past them, leaning closer into each other as they exchange their whispers. He ignores them, the straps of his backpack digging into his hands as he curls his fingers tighter around them. One of them giggles, their voice a distorted cackle and the others laugh too, the sound high-pitched and off.

Eric just walks faster, staring at his shoes and the disgusting floor of the school, the cracks from teenage brawls and childish tantrums running like spiderwebs across the tiles.

The cafeteria is unusually crowded, the stench of grease and cheap food that would probably get the national health department’s panties in a twist hangs heavy in the air and makes him want to puke. He probably can’t keep the scowl off his face anyway.

“Geez you guys, which one of you had Taco Bell last night cause that’s fucking disgusting,” He says, throwing his bag haphazardly onto the table between Stan and Butters “We know it ain’t Kenny cause his family can’t afford it.”

Nobody laughs at his comment but that doesn’t exactly surprise him. They don’t have the same sense of humor as him anyway, wouldn’t know what hilarious was if it slapped them in the faces. He squeezes onto the bench, knees bumping into Butters and he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t react at all really. Eric ignores him right back, digging into his stuff to find his lunch but coming back empty-handed.

“Looks like mom forgot about lunch again, can you believe this shit?” He complains loudly. The others still don’t respond, now that he thinks about it he can’t even see their faces. There is something like darkness obscuring his vision, blurring out their features. Eric blinks, once then twice, but nothing happens.

“Guys?”

“You think she just forgot?” Somebody says then. He doesn’t know who, can’t tell through the static filling his ears all of the sudden. “You think she actually cares?”

He opens his mouth but it’s like something is gripping his throat, squeezing the airway shut. He can’t breathe all of a sudden.

“Maybe it is you who forgot, isn’t it Cartman? Forgot how much of a burden you are to her. How much everybody despises you.”

He tries to get up, but can’t move an inch. He’s stuck in place, with his heart hammering away in his chest and a cold dread creeping down the back of his spine. He can’t breathe.

“Nobody likes you, you know? Everybody would be much happier if you just disappeared.”

His hands are glued to the table, his legs heavy like lead. Their own hands wrap around his limbs, pull him down, pull him apart. He can’t fucking breathe.

“Maybe you should just do them a favor and die.”

He wakes up shivering, gasping for air. He fumbles with the blankets, suddenly aware of how tight they feel around him, throwing them onto the floor in a heap. The curtains are halfway open, Eric couldn’t be arsed to close them properly last night and he can see the darkness outside, knowing it’s way too early in the morning to have thoughts like this.

So he closes his eyes again instead, exhaling shakily and waiting for his breathing to go back to normal.


	3. Delirium - InuYasha

For the most part, Miroku had become accustomed to the pain. Naraku never had any new tricks up his sleeves, it was always the same poison coursing through his veins. It burned badly, liquid fire eating up his insides, but in the worst way, he had become used to it.

Whenever possible he would try to avoid getting too much miasma in his system, but sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. When his friends were in danger, too caught up in their own struggles to keep an eye on the entire battlefield, Miroku wouldn’t hesitate to assist them no matter the cost, as long as he stayed wary of the amount he absorbed.

Sometimes things got a bit out of hand.

“I’m fine, really,” He mumbled, his staff now the only thing keeping him upright. His vision was unsteady, fuzzy around the edges and he blinked rapidly to see their blurry faces properly. They were probably worried and he hated it. “Just need a moment.”

“How about you sit the fuck down,” He heard Inuyasha say quite loudly, though it was probably just the pounding headache that made it feel that way. Miroku waved him away with a hand but knew that Inuyasha usually wouldn’t listen except if he did as he was told.

“The others?” He inquired instead, trying to keep standing but feeling himself sway from side to side unsteadily. Inuyasha had one hand on his elbow, probably afraid he was going to keel over.

“They’re a bit uh,” Inuyasha hesitated, quite unlike himself and Miroku raised an eyebrow, “A bit occupied, I think.”

Miroku nodded tightly, before promptly falling onto his ass. Inuyasha knelt beside him, probably to make sure he hadn’t died so he waved his hand again to show that he hadn’t. He kind of hit Inuyasha in the face with it too and the other caught his wrist.

“Are they hurt?” Miroku asked, turning his head but he couldn’t really see much of anything anymore except for some mudded colors, which was strange.

Inuyasha huffed and did not let go of his wrist. “How about you worry about yourself first before thinking about others?”

“Such sage advice,” Miroku couldn’t help but answer. “Maybe you should listen to yourself sometimes.”

Inuyasha let go of him but didn’t move away. Miroku let his arm fall to the ground, too tired to hold it up suddenly. He wasn’t dying, he was sure of it, but this didn’t feel like it usually did either. He thought he should know why that was, but his brain sure wasn’t cooperating with him anymore.

“Hey, Inuyasha?”

“Yeah?”

He swallowed. His mouth felt dry, the ground painful. He tried getting up for a moment, but couldn’t really move. “What happened?”

It took a bit for Inuyasha to respond to that. Miroku thought he had left after all. Maybe he hadn’t ever been there, nobody was.

Then there was that hand around his wrist once more, tighter than before. It kind of stayed there, lingering, as if it was afraid to make a wrong move. Miroku laughed, Inuyasha was always so afraid to do things wrong.

“I do think I’m not well,” He concluded uselessly, moving his other hand to grasp Inuyasha’s knee awkwardly. His stomach was protesting, like he was going to expel his food and if he was going to do that he might as well do so in his friend’s lap.

“Don’t worry.” Inuyasha said, “You’re just being an idiot.”

“Right,” Miroku agreed, because that made sense, even though nothing made sense. He wondered where his father was, where he had gone, why he had left Miroku all by himself.

And if it was selfish of him to wonder about this.

His shoulders shook. He knew he wasn’t crying, but he felt the tightness of a sob inside his chest, burning uncomfortably against his ribcage.

“Just an idiot?” He murmured to nobody in particular, to himself most of all and he felt Inuyasha’s palm against the back of his neck, pressing softly.

“Just an idiot.”

And Miroku really couldn’t be more relieved.


	4. Human shield - Detroit: Become Human

Connor hears it before he feels it.

The apartment is quiet, cozy, with just the radio playing in soft muted tones some song neither of them actually likes. Markus is standing by the counter, leaning back against it and hands braced on the surface as he tells Connor about his day. The setting sun illuminates his face, the freckles on his cheeks, and for the hundredth time or so Connor can’t help but think how beautiful Markus is, how perfect-

Then there is the sound of shattering glass, air moving too fast and he feels the pressure, the uncomfortable burn at the same time that Markus slams into him, forcing him onto the floor.

His head smacks against the kitchen tile, hard enough to bounce back and the weight on top of him shifts but doesn’t leave, only pressing into him harder.

“Markus!” He calls, as soon as reality slips back into focus and there’s a breeze coming in through the broken window that drowns out the radio somehow.

“Don’t move,” Markus says, hands pressed firmly against Connor’s shoulder just as a second shot shatters the vase Hank gave them last week, trickling water on them from above. Wetness spreading against Connor’s chest.

They lay there for what feels like hours, but is probably just a few more seconds and then Markus raises his head, hands still clutching.

“They’re gone,” He says, rolling away and then he makes a weird noise, something between a groan and a sigh. Connor pushes himself up onto his elbow, stares at the shattered window and then down at himself. Blue is staining the front of his shirt.

It takes a few moments for him to realize that the wetness he felt earlier wasn’t water.

He forces himself into motion, crawls over to Markus still sideways on the floor and there’s more thirium pooling all around him, spilling from the gaping hole the bullet tore through his chest.

“Mark-” Connor tries, but chokes on the word and Markus is just looking up at him with soft, fond eyes, thirium dripping from his mouth because his inner electronics got shredded.

“It’s fine, dear,” He mumbles, fingers curling into Conner’s sleeve and while he looks like he’s trying to smile it just comes across as exhausted. “Nothing vital.”

Connor nods, trying more than anything to convince himself it’s true. “This is all my fault. I should have been more careful, I should have-”

“No,” Markus says firmly, but it clearly takes effort and Connor just prays the ambulance gets here faster. “Don’t say that, never say that.”

Connor nods, holds Markus closer to him as he hears the sirens approaching in the distance. But that doesn’t chase the guilt away.


	5. Gunpoint - The Umbrella Academy

“You are making a big mistake.”

The thug hissed something under their breath and pushed the gun hard against the back of Luther’s head, making him lean forward a bit. As much as the gunshot wound in his arm hurt, it was ultimately harmless at doing anything besides being a minor annoyance.

Getting shot in the head, on the other hand, would be an issue.

“No shit. You are going to tell me where your fucking brother is right now,” They said harshly, finger trembling against the trigger making Luther sigh.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” He tried getting a better look at the guy but the angle didn’t allow it. It really wouldn’t be that hard to disarm them, a matter of seconds really, but he didn’t know how many others were in the mansion, where they were, if any of his siblings were home. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. “I have a lot of brothers.”

This only seemed to irritate them further though. “F-fuck! The kid, I’m asking about the kid.”

Luther smiled. “Figured,” It wasn’t exactly a surprising development. “Well, I don’t really know where he is right now but,” He caught a movement in the hallway from the corner of his eye. “He should be appearing at any moment.”

“Wha-” The guy’s exclamation got cut off suddenly, replaced with a strangled noise and then a thump like a sack of potatoes dropping on the ground. Luther turned around, just in time to see Five pick up the man’s pistol and open its chamber to inspect for bullets.

“The others?” He asked, grimacing at the body that now lay limp on his bedroom floor. “Also was that necessary?”

“You rather I should just let them kill you next time?” Five asked sincerely, closing the gun and slipping it into his pocket then adding, “I can’t believe the commission is sending rookies now, they really must be getting desperate.”

“I rather you just knock them out instead of uh,” Luther nudged the man with his foot. “Killing them.”

Five shrugged instead of answering. There was blood on his hands, and soaking into his sleeves, and despite Luther almost definitely knowing the answer he had to ask.

“Were there more of them?”

“Yes, but I took care of them,” Five said, turning his arm so Luther could see the red streaks along his uniform. “Not my blood.”

Luther nodded his head as if that statement did not concern him at all.

“We should move the bodies before the others get home,” Five considered out loud, and Luther very much pretended he couldn’t see the vague smirk on his brother’s face. “They’ll be worried.”

He sighed, grabbing the dead guy by the back of their jacket and slinging them over his shoulder. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right. Let’s go, I know an excellent spot to bury corpses.”

“Of course you do.”


	6. Infection - Hollow Knight

They can feel it crawling along the back of their spine. Creeping down their limbs, pulling on their chains at odd intervals as it seeps into their mind.

Not so empty after all.

They have time, a lot of time, too much time spent thinking about their heritage, one that they will never actually get to claim. They were not created with that purpose in mind. The purpose to rise or rule or serve for anything besides a promise full-filled, a desperate ploy that was nothing but the last resort of a creature faced with the one thing he could not face. The extinction of the only thing they were humble enough to build.

They think of this creature, of rooms so white it was almost unbearable and of a feeling quite unfamiliar bursting inside them. It shouldn’t be there, they knew, and they didn’t say. Because failing and being cast aside was the only thing more intolerable than their destined fate.

They think of the other one, with a soft voice and lingering touches. The one that sang to them and grew them and always had a certain sense of sadness permeating her very being. She was grieving, grieving for her children, both those born from seed and born from duty. She was grieving an expectancy left abandoned and the crib in their room that was meant only for emptiness in every sense of the word.

But they think of their siblings most, of the darkness that fills them and their bodies void of life. They do not know what this is called, do not want to equate it to the grief of the mother or the obligation of the father. They know only that it keeps them company, in endlessness spent waiting. The light that reaches them slowly, faltering but ever stubborn, only drowned out by the sorrow they feel for their kin.

And he had told them, had pressed it into their absent heart, that if they fail, their suffering will have been for nothing.

That is why they wait, as it spreads and coils and infects. As it forces its way into their body, into their thoughts. As they draw the blade and press it into themselves to keep it at bay for a few precious eons longer.

Even as they know it is useless, even as they recognize it has already won, laying waste to their uninherinted kingdom and its many citizens.

They will refuse to believe the futileness of their sacrifice.

But instead they resist, thinking only of their siblings and feeling not nearly as hollow as they should.


End file.
